THE   STORY   OF   ELEUSIS 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 


YZDRA    (Poetic  Drama) 
THE  SHADOW  OF 
ETC. 


THE 

STORY    OF    ELEUSIS 

A  Lyrical  Drama 


BY 

LOUIS   V.   LEDOUX 


jgotfc 

THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 
1916 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1916, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved. 


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Set  up  and  electrotyped.    Published  October,  1916. 


Norfaooti 

J.  8.  Cashing  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


TO 

E.  A.  R. 

AND 
R.     T. 


THANKS  are  due  the  editors  of  Harper's 
Monthly,  The  Poetry  Review  of  America,  The  Yale 
Review  and  Messrs.  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons,  for 
permission  to  publish  in  whole  or  in  part  the  first 
four  acts  of  this  drama. 


THE  ARGUMENT 

OF  holy  Demeter,  giver  of  grain,  is  the  story ; 
and  of  her  daughter,  the  maiden  Persephone 
whom  Hades  bore  away  to  be  his  Queen  among 
the  dead.  As  she  was  gathering  flowers  in  a 
meadow  he  seized  her  and  Demeter  knew  it  not. 
A  long  time  she  searched,  withholding  her  gifts 
from  mortals ;  but  at  length  Helios,  who  seeth  all 
things,  told  her  how  Hades,  with  the  consent 
of  Zeus,  had  borne  away  the  maiden  to  rule 
beside  him  in  his  dark  hall.  Then  Demeter  for 
sook  the  company  of  the  Immortals  and  became 
as  a  woman  of  the  earth,  old  and  worn  with 
sorrow;  and  having  cursed  the  ground  with 
barrenness  that  it  should  bear  no  more  fruit,  she 
seated  herself  by  a  roadside  well  and  bowed  her 
ix 


head,  sorrowing.  There  the  daughters  of  Celeus, 
King  of  Eleusis,  found  her  and,  having  pity  on  her, 
led  her  to  their  Father's  hall  where  none  knew 
her,  and  she  became  the  nurse  of  the  child  Demo- 
phon.  Tenderly  she  nursed  him,  and  each  night 
privily  she  laid  him  among  the  burning  brands 
that  he  might  become  like  one  of  the  Immortals. 
But  when  the  Mother  had  seen  this,  Demeter 
revealed  herself  and  departed. 

Meanwhile  in  the  underworld,  Persephone  sat 
sorrowing ;  and  on  earth  the  famine  grew  so  sore 
that  after  a  time  Zeus  sent  Hermes,  the  swift 
messenger,  to  bring  the  maiden  back,  and  Hades, 
her  Lord,  gave  consent.  Then  joyfully  she  re 
turned  to  her  mother;  but  it  is  the  law  that 
whosoever  has  tasted  food  in  the  Kingdom  of 
Hades  can  never  be  wholly  freed,  and  Persephone, 
having  eaten  there  of  the  seeds  of  the  pome 
granate,  each  year  must  go  again  to  dwell  for  a 
little  among  the  dead. 

x 


When  the  maiden  had  been  restored  to  her, 
Demeter  bade  the  earth  to  bloom  afresh ;  and  she 
dwelt  in  a  temple  built  for  her  by  the  people  of 
Eleusis,  helping  them  with  her  counsel.  There 
each  year  when  leaves  were  falling  and  the  seed 
lay  hidden  in  the  ground  was  this  story  enacted, 
but  none  has  described  what  he  saw  in  that 
temple,  for  the  story  was  a  sacred  story  and  the 
meaning  was  for  each  alone. 


XI 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 


ACT      I.  —  PERSEPHONE 


ACT    II.  —  BESIDE  THE  WELL 


ACT  III.  — DEMETER  AT  ELEUSIS 


ACT    IV.— PERSEPHONE  IN  HADES 


ACT     V.  — THE  TEMPLE 


Persephone 

Cyane 

Arethusa 

Galatea 

Hades 

Demeter 

Hecate 

Callithoe 

Callidice 

Cleisidice 

Demo 


The 

daughters 

of 
Celeus 


Celeus 

Metaneira 

A  Man  of  Eleusis 

An  Old  Man 
A  Newcomer 
A  Woman 
A  Young  Man 

Triptolemus 


Spirits  of  the  Dead. 
Men  and  Women  of  Eleusis. 


Kill 


ACT  I 
PERSEPHONE 


ACT  I 

A  cliff  rising  abruptly  from  the  northern  shore 
of  Lake  Pergusa  in  Sicily.  A  jew  scattered  boulders 
below.  From  the  top  of  the  cliff  slopes  upward  the 
field  of  Enna.  It  is  early  spring  and  there  are  in 
numerable  violets  which  give  a  bluish  tinge  to  the 
hillside.  Here  and  there  are  other  flowers;  crocus, 
hyacinth,  poppy,  flag,  roses,  and  narcissus.  In 
the  distance  on  the  east  rises  JEtna. 

On  the  top  of  the  cliff  are  seated  CYANE,  ARE- 
THUSA,  and  GALATEA.  PERSEPHONE  stands  a 
little  behind  them  on  the  lower  slope  of  the  field, 
looking  out  across  the  lake.  It  is  early  morning. 

PERSEPHONE 

Up  from  Egypt  and  the  Southland, 
See !  the  wild,  white  cranes  are  flying. 

CYANE 
In  the  air  I  hear  their  crying. 

3 


ARETHUSA 
•  /H?.ikl    Again      Aiid  now  more  loud. 

GALATEA 
Dark  against  the  sky  they  show. 

CYANE 

Where? 

GALATEA 

To  southward,  like  a  cloud 
Hung  between  the  sky  and  ocean. 
Swift  and  steady  is  their  motion. 

ARETHUSA 
More  like  arrows  from  a  bow. 

CYANE 

Now  I  see  them  coming  nearer. 
Are  they  stooping  toward  the  shore  ? 

PERSEPHONE 
O  wild  white  cranes,  come  down  to  me ! 

4 


ARETHUSA 

Now  their  cries  are  ringing  clearer. 
See !    A  downward  course  they  take. 

GALATEA 
There  against  the  sun  are  more. 

CYANE  (to  PERSEPHONE) 
Now  so  low  the  first  are  flying, 
I  can  see  their  shadow  lying 
Dark  and  wedge-like  on  the  lake. 

ARETHUSA  (to  PERSEPHONE) 
They  have  settled  just  below. 

PERSEPHONE  (singing) 
Heart  of  a  bird  !  Heart  of  a  bird  ! 

O  the  wild,  white  cranes  are  free ; 
But  the  heart  of  man  has  a  song  unheard 

That  the  sea-wind  knows,  and  the  sea. 

Heart  of  a  bird  !     Heart  of  a  bird  ! 
O  wild,  white  cranes  that  fly 

5 


Over  all  the  lands  that  the  oceans  gird, 
What  have  you  more  than  I  ? 

What  have  you  more  than  I  have  had 
From  the  winds  and  the  sun  and  the  sea  ? 

Is  the  heart  of  a  bird  like  a  man's  heart  sad 
And  crying  ceaselessly  ? 

GALATEA 

Did  Hecate  see  you  as  you  slept  last  night, 
And  weave  the  yellow  moonbeams  round  your 

heart; 

Or  Aphrodite  from  her  Eastern  isle 
Send    out    some    scarlet-vestured    dream    that 

leaves 
This  cry  of  human  longing  on  your  lips  ? 

PERSEPHONE 

I  know  not  why  it  is  my  clouded  mind 
The  gold  of  such  a  sunrise  turns  to  gray. 
The  song  I  heard  a  fisher-maiden  sing 
One  bird-thrilled  dawn,  when  here  alone  I  sat, 
6 


And  back  of  ^Etna  shone  the  coming  rose. 

Beneath  me  spread  a  sea  of  moving  mist 

Whose  silver  bosom  softly  rose  and  fell 

In  rhythmic  undulation  of  slow  waves 

That  soundless  broke  upon  the  cliff  below. 

There  white  it  lay  and  palely  luminous, 

A  sea  that  had  no  cadenced  undertone; 

And  as  I  watched  its  gleaming  billows  roll, 

And    thought    how    all    beneath   was   gray    and 

chill, 

My  heart  was  troubled  by  a  song  that  rose 
From  where  the  shrouded  lake  in  darkness  lay : 
The  fisher-maiden  sang,  and  I  went  down; 
But  when  I  asked,  she  knew  not  what  it  meant, 
Or  could  not  put  in  words  the  thing  she  knew; 
And  I  came  back,  but  ^Etna's  rose  was  gone. 

GALATEA 

A  tale  I  heard  that  men  are  cursed  with  souls ; 
But  what  souls  are  I  know  not. 

7 


ARETHUSA 

I  have  heard 

The  soul  is  hunger  ever  unappeased, 

And  thirst  by  all  earth's  fountains  unassuaged. 

PERSEPHONE 

The  soul  is  darkness  waiting  for  the  dawn, 
And,  if  dawn  comes,  is  day  that  longs  for  dusk; 
And  not  to  men  as  to  the  soulless  beasts 
Is  death  a  sudden  stranger. 

CYANE 

Close  beside, 

With    following    footfalls    through    the    crisped 

leaves 

That  edge  their  pathway,  rustling,  death  unseen, 
A  dread  companion,  waits  his  destined  hour; 
And  now  upon  a  turning  shoulder  breathes, 
And  now,  an  obscure  shadow,  dims  the  day. 

GALATEA 

The  cranes  rise  up  again. 
8 


PERSEPHONE 

Spring's  harbingers. 

Now  where  they  pass  will  green  come  stealing  up 
Expectant  valleys  where  the  brown  brooks  run, 
And  dot  with  scattered  tufts  the  meadowlands. 

ARETHUSA 
They  fly  the  Pygmies'  war. 

CYANE 

It  is  the  hour 

When  we  are  wont  to  sing  our  hymn  to  her 
Who  leads  despondent  summer  from  the  south 
To  beauty's  bright  renewal  —  blade  and  bud. 

GALATEA  and  ARETHUSA 
Weave  we  now  the  sacred  dances; 

Praise  we  now  Demeter's  name; 
Bright  the  dew-starred  cobweb  glances, 

On  the  altar  leaps  the  flame. 

9 


CYANE  and  PERSEPHONE 
In  the  mystic  measure  swaying, 

Great  Demeter  we  entreat : 
Mother  hear  thy  children  praying ! 

Bring  the  barley,  bring  the  wheat. 

CHORUS 

(Hymn  to  Demeter) 

Weave  the  dance,  and  raise  again  the  sacred  chorus; 
Wreathe  the  garlands  of  the  spring  about  the 

hair; 
Now  once   more   the   meadows   burst   in   bloom 

before  us, 

Crying  swallows  dart  and  glitter  through  the  air. 
Glints  the  plowshare  in  the  brown  and  fragrant 

furrow ; 

Pigeons  coo  in  shady  coverts  as  they  pair; 
Come  the  furtive  mountain  folk  from  cave  and 

burrow, 

Lean,  and  blinking  at  the  sunlight's  sudden  glare. 
10 


Bright  through  midmost  heaven  moves  the  lesser 
Lion; 

Hide  the  Hyades  in  ocean  caverns  hoar; 
Past  the  shoulders  of  the  sunset  flames  Orion, 

Following  the  Sisters  seaward  evermore. 
Gleams  the  east  at  evening,  lit  by  low  Arcturus. 

Out  to  subtle-scented  dawns  beside  the  shore, 
Yet  a  little  and  the  Pleiades  will  lure  us : 

Weave  the  dance  and  raise  the  chorus  as  of 
yore. 

Far  to  eastward  up  the  fabled  gulf  of  Issus, 

Northward,    southward,    westward,    now    the 

trader  goes, 
Passing  headlands  clustered  yellow  with  narcissus, 

Bright  with  hyacinth,  with  poppy,  and  with  rose. 
Shines  the  sea  and  falls  the  billow  as  undaunted, 

Past  the  rising  of  the  stars  that  no  man  knows, 
Sails  he  onward  through  the  islands  siren-haunted, 

Till  the  clashing  gates  of  rock  before  him  close. 
II 


Kindly    Mother    of   the    beasts    and    birds    and 

flowers, 

Gracious  bringer  of  the  barley  and  the  grain, 
Earth    awakened    feels    thy    sunlight    and    thy 

showers ; 

Great  Demeter!     Let  us  call  thee  not  in  vain. 
Lead  us  safely  from  the  seedtime  to  the  thresh 
ing, 
Past   the   harvest   and   the   vineyard's   purple 

stain ; 

Let  us  see  thy  corn-pale  hair  the  sunlight  mesh 
ing, 

When    the    sounding   flails   of   autumn    swing 
again. 

GALATEA 
Where  is  the  mother  now,  Persephone  ? 

PERSEPHONE 

I  felt  her  stoop  to  kiss  me  as  I  slept, 
And  looking,  saw  the  East's  primeval  calm. 
12 


CYANE 

Before  the  dawn  had  showed  its  first  gray  gleam, 
Ere  yet  the  earliest  bird  some  snatch  of  song 
Or  half-forgotten  cadence  heard  in  sleep, 
Had  warbled  waking,  she  had  yoked  her  car 
And  fared  far  out  across  the  starlit  foam 
Whose  silver  blossoms  close  not  with  the  night, 
Bearing  the  earth-brown  mortals  gifts  of  spring. 

PERSEPHONE 

She  gives  her  golden  store  to  all  the  lands 
That  Ocean  laps  within  his  slumbrous  folds, 
And  strange  it  is  to  think  that  far  from  here 
The  darker  folk  of  Nilus  and  the  South, 
Yea  all  that  dwell  beyond  the  ocean  haze, 
Look  up  from  toil  to  give  Demeter  thanks, 
While  on  them,  down  the  almond-vistaed  spring 
Steal  recollections  faint  of  what  they  were 
Before  the  soul  had  sapped  their  strength  away 
And  set  them  groping  darkly  through  the  earth 
For  things  that  are  not,  and  can  never  be. 

13 


CYANE 

Their  ashen  hearts  remembrance  kindles  now, 
And  long-forgotten  moods  and  motions  bud 
In  barren  breasts  to  burst  in  rose  and  gold, 
Petal  by  petal  opened,  making  dim 
The  dun,  habitual  aspects  of  the  world. 

ARETHUSA 

Apollo  mounts,  and  still  we  loiter  here, 
Leaving  Demeter's  altar  unadorned. 
The  flowers  will  lose  their  early  loveliness 
If  long  they  gaze  on  him,  and  soon  his  beams 
Will  drink  the  freshness  from  each  veined  cup, 
For  dewdrops,  like  to  swans,  just  ere  they  pass 
Attain  their  height  of  beauty. 

GALATEA 

Now  their  gleam 

Is  like  the  foam-stars  on  the  veil  of  light 
That  wrapped  the  Paphian  when  at  first  she  shone 
Within  her  curved  shell,  and  round  about, 
Amazed  Ocean  trembled,  shimmering. 

14 


CYANE 

What  wealth  of  violets  !     About  me  here 
They  cluster  thick  as  on  the  broidered  veils 
The  sailors  gain  in  barter  over  seas. 
I  know  not  which  to  pick,  the  blue  or  pied, 
The  sturdy  yellow  or  these  dainty  white. 

ARETHUSA 

I  pick  the  crocus,  Smilax'  gentle  friend, 
For  Crocus  died  of  unrequited  love, 
So  legends  tell,  and  when  beside  my  heart 
I  lay  his  tender  blossom,  oft  I  think 
If  one  loved  me  so  well  he  should  not  die. 

GALATEA 

If  one  loved  me,  I'd  play  him  many  pranks 
And  tease  him  till  his  love  he  did  deny  — 
But  love  the  more  —  and  from  the  waves  I'd 

laugh 
To  see  him  pace  the  shore  disconsolate. 

15 


ARETHUSA 

I  know  not  what  it  is  that  I  would  do : 
I  could  not  choose  but  pity,  yet  would  fear 
To  loose  my  maiden  zone  and  so  to  lose 
This  rippling  girlhood. 

GALATEA 

You  would  run  or  hide, 
With  tears  and  laughter  mingled,  babbling  still. 

CYANE 

I  would  not  wish  for  Aphrodite's  flame, 
Or  change  the  love  I  know  for  love  unknown ; 
This  cool,  sweet  converse  on  the  morning  hills, 
The  linked  roamings  with  Persephone 
Suffice  my  need  of  loving,  nor  would  I, 
For  other  love,  one  petal  pluck  from  this. 

PERSEPHONE 

I  wonder  will  the  seeds  of  Fate  unfold 
For  good  or  ill.     So  happy  are  we  now. 
16 


(CYANE,  one  arm  laden  with  flowers,  goes  over,  puts 
her  other  arm  about  PERSEPHONE,  and  kisses  her.} 

CYANE 
Surely  we  shall  be  ever  as  we  are. 

PERSEPHONE 

Ah  no !     Not  Zeus  himself  can  hold  the  spring, 
For  in  the  bud  is  autumn's  withered  leaf. 

(She  moves  slowly  up  the  hillside,  away  from 
the  others,  gathering  flowers  as  she  goes.) 

GALATEA 

The  ever  mournful  hyacinth  I  pluck, 
Yet  not  because  its  petals  tell  of  pain, 
But  for  the  head  with  tightly  clustered  curls, 
The  noble  discus  player  in  his  strength, 
Whose  stalwart  beauty  wrought  his  overthrow. 

CYANE 

Go  not  too  far  up  field,  Persephone, 

c  I? 


Demeter  bade  us  watch  you,  lest  you  stray 
And  some  swift  harm  befall. 

PERSEPHONE 

Fear  not  for  me ; 
I  gather  rose  and  lily,  poppies  too, 
And  there  ahead  the  bright  narcissus  shines. 
No  danger  lurks  within  this  field  of  flowers, 
The  gliding  emerald  snakes  I  oft  have  touched, 
And  naught  else  is  there  save  the  sky  and  you, 
The  lake,  and  far-off  ^Etna  crowned  with  snow. 

ARETHUSA  (singing) 
High  on  her  mountain  throne, 
Ever  aloof,  alone, 
(Clouds  are  her  maiden  zone) 
^Etna  the  white  doth  sit, 
Hearing  the  Titans  groan 
Chained  in  their  sunless  pit, 
Whence  to  the  earth  are  blown, 
18 


Thwarting  Demeter's  plan, 
Flames  by  Hephaestus  lit. 

White  on  her  mountain  throne, 
Ever  aloof,  alone, 
(Clouds  are  her  maiden  zone) 
Silent  doth  ^Etna  sit, 
Watching  the  doubtful  strife 
Waged  since  the  world  began  : 
Parched  are  the  springs  of  life, 
Earth  with  the  seed  is  rife; 
Poised  are  the  fates  of  man. 

(PERSEPHONE  has  gone  far  up  the  field  and  is  now 
on  the  shoulder  of  the  hill  about  to  pass  out  of  sight.) 

CYANE  (calling) 
Persephone ! 

PERSEPHONE 
Just  here  below  I  see 
Narcissus  with  a  hundred  golden  flowers, 
A  wondrous  bloom. 

19 


CYANE 

A  moment,  and  I  come. 

(PERSEPHONE  disappears  over  the  edge  of  the  hill.} 

ARETHUSA  (after  a  pause) 
A  sudden  darkness  falls ! 

GALATEA 

A  strange  green  light 
As  sometimes  at  the  sunset  wraps  the  sea 
When  heavy  storm-clouds  hang  within  the  west. 

ARETHUSA 

I  hear  a  distant  rumbling  as  of  thunder, 
And    look,    the   flowers   are   trembling   on   their 
stalks ! 

GALATEA 
Now  comes  it  nearer ! 

ARETHUSA 

Help  !   I  cannot  stand. 

The  earth  heaves  up  and  sways  beneath  my  feet. 
2O 


(The  darkness  grows  swiftly  deeper.     ARETHUSA 
and  GALATEA  fall  prone.) 

CYANE  (on  the  edge  of  the  hill) 
Where     art     thou  ?     Quick !     The     great     earth 

heaves  and  rends ; 

I  hear  a  trampling  as  of  thunder  steeds, 
And  see  a  blackness  shot  with  moving  flames; 
But  where  thou  art,  I  see  not.     Quick !     To  me  ! 
Persephone ! 

VOICE  OF  HADES 
Nay,  to  me ! 

PERSEPHONE 
Ai!    Ai! 

CYANE 

God  !     Aides  !     Spare  her ! 

(On  the  edge  of  the  hill  is  seen  for  a  moment, 
obscurely   through   the   darkness,   a   golden   chariot 
drawn  by  wild  black  horses;    the  wheels  are  like 
21 


revolving  yellow  flames.  In  the  car  stands  HADES, 
black  bearded  and  dressed  all  in  black  with  a 
golden  crown.  He  has  one  arm  about  PERSEPHONE, 
crushing  her  flowers  against  him,  and  with  the 
other  he  guides  the  plunging  horses.  CYANE 
flings  herself  at  the  head  of  the  nearer  horse,  trying 
to  clutch  his  mane  and  nostrils,  but  misses  her  hold 
and  falls  beneath  the  car.  There  is  another  loud 
roar  as  of  thunder.) 


22 


ACT  II 
BESIDE    THE    WELL 


ACT  II 

At  the  side  of  a  country  road  near  Eleusis,  in 
Attica.  In  the  foreground,  beyond  the  road,  is  a 
well  overhung  by  a  gnarled  and  ancient  olive  tree. 
Behind  this  a  field  slopes  gently  southward  to  the 
sea.  It  is  the  close  of  the  dark  hour  just  before 
dawn,  and  as  the  scene  progresses,  the  outline  of 
the  island  of  Salamis  becomes  visible  in  the  distance. 
Beside  the  well  stands  DEMETER  with  blazing 
torches  in  her  hands.  She  is  wrapped  in  a  dark 
blue  mantle  and  hood,  but  her  majestic  form  and 
face  are  dimly  visible.  Near  her  stands  HECATE 
in  a  shimmering  yellow  mantle  that  is  iridescent 
as  it  catches  the  flickering  light.  In  her  hand  is 
a  torch,  the  flame  of  which  changes  as  day  dawns, 
from  yellow  to  silver.  The  earth  is  parched  and 
bare.  When  the  scene  opens,  DEMETER  is  standing 

25 


motionless,  gazing  ahead  of  her  with  expressionless 
eyes.  After  a  pause  she  lowers  her  torches  and  ex 
tinguishes  them  in  the  dust  of  the  road. 

DEMETER 

Beside  this  well  the  wandering  foot  shall  rest, 
And  here  be  quenched  in  earth  the  blazing  pine; 
How  useless  now !  since  Helios  tells  me  all  — 
The  source  and  sum  of  sorrow.     Light  goes  not 
To  that  dark  house  where  Hades  holds  —  Ah  me ! 
There  is  no  need  of  searching  any  more. 
Beside  the  dusky  river  she  will  go 
With  flowerless  hands,  and  hear  no  happy  bird, 
But  only  muffled  murmurs  of  the  stream, 
And  somewhere  in  the  mist  a  moving  oar; 
And  I  will  dwell  on  earth  where  sorrow  dwells, 
Nor  go  among  the  laughter-loving  gods 
As  once  in  glory ;   yea,  like  Earth  herself, 
Will  wear  the  robe  of  twilight,  casting  off 
The  splendors  of  my  clear  divinity 
26 


To  live  with  griefs  familiars  undiscerned, 
A  woman  old,  and  worn  with  many  tears. 

HECATE 

Since  thou  an  earthly  semblance  wilt  assume, 
And  veil  thy  form  divine  in  wrinkled  eld, 
Thy  peers  forsaking,  and  the  windy  height 
Of  cloud-enwrapped  Olympus  where  they  dwell, 
Such  comfort  lodge  within  thine  aching  breast 
As  mortal  mothers  have  when  children  die. 

DEMETER 

When  to  a  Mother's  ears  a  child  that  died 
Seems  crying  in  the  night,  she  starts  awake 
And    gropes    with    outstretched    hands    toward 

where  he  lay 

To  find  how  answerless  is  Zeus'  decree, 
How  unavailing  tears.     What  comfort  that 
For  me  on  whom  abysmal  darkness  falls  — 
The  dark  and  chill  of  space  if  thou  wert  not, 
27 


Hyperion  dead,  and  dead  the  roving  stars  — 
While  through  me  whirl  and  cry  the  storms  of  hate, 
No  drifting  gust  of  unrebellious  tears. 

HECATE 
Thou  canst  not  strive  with  Zeus,  nor  conquer  Fate. 

DEMETER 

He  slew  my  lover  once ;   I  cursed  him  not ; 
But  now  long  watch  of  man  that  hopes  and  dies, 
Has  made  me  something  other  than  I  was, 
Lower  it  may  be,  yet  perchance  more  high ; 
And  with  this  new  infusion  fills  my  heart 
The  deep-mouthed  curse  that  climbs  against  the 

stars 

And  hurls  itself  in  wild,  foredoomed  assault, 
On  battlements  that  broke  the  Titans'  war. 

HECATE 

Thy  love  for  men  I  know. 
28 


DEMETER 

I  love  them  not, 

But  pitied  them,  the  blind  earth-crawling  race, 
That  reach,  so  eager,  upward  toward  the  light, 
To  clutch  at  last  the  old,  forlorn  despair; 
And  more  obeyed  an  instinct  in  myself 
Which    made    me    raise    anew  what    death    de 
stroyed, 

While  Zeus  with  equal  balance  held  the  twain. 
For  life  is  like  a  mound  of  shifting  sand 
On  some  low  island  set  in  leagues  of  sea ; 
The  winds  of  being  blow  from  out  the  waste, 
And  up  the  beaches  rolls  the  crumbling  wave. 
Ever  I  gave  to  men  unnumbered  seeds 
And  blind  earth-forces  working  — 

HECATE 

Lo !  the  change ! 

Now  look  I  down  on  bare,  unfruitful  fields 
And  cast  my  silver  sheen  on  barrenness. 
29 


DEMETER 

The  change  is  here,  in  my  unfruitful  heart; 
For  I,  like  one  who  held  a  wisp  of  straw 
Between  the  victim  and  the  axe  that  falls, 
Now  see  the  waiting  terror  in  his  eyes 
And  bid  the  blade  be  keen,  the  stroke  be  swift. 

HECATE 

The  mists  of  morning  gather  from  the  sea ; 
Farewell,  I  cannot  linger. 

DEMETER 

Go  thou  on ; 

Sorrow,  the  eldest  born  of  all  the  gods 
And  last  that  shall  be,  here  remains  with  me. 
Yea,  last  as  first  is  she,  for  Zeus  himself 
On  some  undreamed  of  day  will  surely  fall, 
A  midnight  bulk  across  the  ether  crying; 
And  then  will  sorrow  rule  supreme,  alone, 
The  huge  unpeopled  world  and  silent  sky; 
Till  when  are  building  wind  and  crumbling  wave. 

30 


(Demeter  seats  herself  beside  the  well,  her  head 
bowed  in  her  hands.  The  figure  of  HECATE  slowly 
fades  away,  and  as  it  passes,  her  voice  is  heard 
singing.) 

HECATE 

The  moving  hands  of  Fate 
That  knows  nor  love  nor  hate, 
Divided  fortunes  cast; 
And  each  must  learn  at  last, 
How  blest  soe'er  his  state, 
To  wander  desolate, 
Mourning  for  joy  long  past. 

Of  none  that  lives  the  lot 
Is  bliss  that  changes  not, 
But  sorrow  comes  to  all; 
Yea,  Zeus  himself  shall  fall, 
Plunge  like  an  arrow  shot 
Seaward,  and  be  forgot, 
Wrapped  in  her  folding  pall. 

31 


(The  scene  is  now  lit  only  by  the  first  faint  light 
of  dawn,  but  as  the  day  brightens,  it  shows  that  the 
form  and  aspect  of  DEMETER  have  changed.  She 
appears  bowed  and  shrunken,  and  when  she  raises 
her  head,  the  face  is  that  of  an  old,  worn  woman.) 

DEMETER 

The  bolt  of  Zeus  was  wrapped  in  levin-light, 
And  in  its  flash  I  saw  things  as  they  are : 
Earth's  myriad  slaves  for  whom  the  stolen  fire 
But  lit  the  quenchless  hopes  that  lure  them  on 
To  that  dread  gulf  of  darkness  where  they  sink ; 
And  o'er  them  Zeus,  himself  in  toils  of  Fate, 
And  pitiless  as  is  the  bolt  he  hurls. 
Let  sorrow's  reign  commence,  I  yield  the  strife, 
And  down  the  blackened  hillsides  bid  her  come, 
Through  barren  valleys,  bitter  dells  of  drought 
Where  none  shall  stay  her  triumph  as  of  old. 

(The  daughters   of   CELEUS,    KING   OF   ELEU- 
sis,  —  CALLITHOE,    CALLIDICE,    CLEISIDICE    and 
32 


DEMO  —  are  heard  singing.  They  draw  gradually 
nearer  and  finally  come  into  sight,  but  DEMETER 
remains  with  her  head  bowed  and  does  not  notice 
them.  On  their  shoulders  they  bear  pitchers  of 
bronze  which  catch  the  first  rays  of  the  sun.  CAL- 
LITHOE  is  the  eldest,  CALLIDICE  the  most  beautiful.) 

THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  CELEUS 
0  Thou  who  alone  of  all  the  Immortals, 

Lover  of  children  and  lover  of  earth, 
Carest  for  man  as  a  Mother,  and  caring 

Bringest  from  darkness  the  blossoms  of  birth  : 
Gone  is  the  joy  of  the  womb  that  is  bearing, 

Fled  from  the  harvest  the  song  and  the  mirth. 

Bryony  garlanded  Queen  of  the  vineland, 
Wardress  of  olive,  Bringer  of  wheat, 

Filled  to  the  brim  is  the  chalice  of  sorrow; 
Over  the  hills  cometh  pestilence  fleet, 

Cometh  with  famine,  we  die  on  the  morrow : 
Save  us,  Demeter !  — 
33 


DEMO 
Look  there,  beside  the  well. 

CALLIDICE 

Mother. 

DEMETER 

Mother ! 

Who  calls  on  me  by  that  ill-omened  name  ? 

CLEISIDICE. 

With  us  the  name  is  blest.     But  who  art  thou  ? 
And  what  strange  country  reared  thee  ? 

DEMETER 

Mother ! 

CALLITHOE 

Speak : 

The  stranger  in  Eleusis  fears  no  harm. 

DEMETER 

Is  this  Eleusis  ?     Nay,  I  knew  it  not. 
A  midnight  tale  is  mine  of  grief  and  death, 
Ye  could  not  comprehend,  for  youth  is  strange 

34 


To  sorrow's  ancient  language,  knowing  not 
Her  speech  comes  native  unto  all  at  last. 

CALLITHOE 

Unlearned  is  youth  and  yet  compassionate ; 
Of  quick,  responsive  moods,  and  kindly  tears. 
Our  father,  Celeus,  rules  this  lovely  shore, 
The  friend  of  strangers  is  he,  heeding  Zeus 
Who  holds  the  guest-right  sacred;    he  perchance 
Would  find  some  service  fit  for  aged  hands, 
For  so  is  age  most  blest,  with  work  to  do, 
And  not  to  sit  unneeded. 

DEMO 

We  will  run, 

Our  morning  pitchers  filled,  and  bring  you  word. 

DEMETER 

Behold  I  wait ;   and  if  ye  seek  a  name, 
Why,  Deo  is  a  name  to  call  me  by. 

CALLIDICE 
Despair  not,  Deo. 

35 


CALLITHOE 

The  cup  of  sorrow  moves  from  lip  to  lip, 
And  though  we  drain  it  deep,  it  passes  on. 

CLEISIDICE 

We  too  have  tasted  sorrow ;  see  you  not 
That  all  the  barley  fields  are  parched  and  bare, 
The  olive  shrivelled  and  the  pasture  brown  ? 

(They  take  up  their  pitchers  and  turn  to  the  well, 
singing  as  they  fill  them.) 

THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  CELEUS 
Deep  the  well  and  dark  the  water, 
Far  we  let  our  pitchers  down. 
Prisoned  water,  prisoned  water, 
Fill  the  gleaming  pitchers  brown ; 
Fill  and  brim  and  sparkle  after; 
Pools  of  sunlight  edged  with  laughter 
Wait  their  guest  in  Celeus'  town. 

When  we  lean  above  the  water, 
Imaged  in  the  twilight  lies 

36 


One  who  comes  for  Celeus'  daughter, 
Kindly  brave  and  kindly  wise. 
Shadowy  layers  of  darkness  cover 
Him,  the  coming  lord  and  lover  — 
Hers  who  has  the  brightest  eyes. 

CLEISIDICE 

We  go,  and  swiftly  bring  some  word  of  cheer ; 
But  you  must  pray  the  gods,  for  they  are  kind, 
High  Zeus  and  Queen  Demeter,  till  we  come. 

(Exeunt.) 

DEMETER 

No  more  shall  springtime  blossom  on  the  hills, 
Or  any  harvest  hymn  be  sung  of  men ; 
And  none  shall  see  me  by  the  threshing  floor 
And  nudge  his  neighbor,  or  with  silent  flail 
In  midmost  stroke  suspended,  watch  me  pass ; 
But  I,  a  bondmaid  in  the  house  of  grief, 
Will  sit  unnoticed,  while  the  gray  mist  creeps 
Forever  inward  till  the  hearth  be  cold. 

37 


ACT  III 
DEMETER  AT  ELEUSIS 


ACT  III 

Hall  in  the  house  of  CELEUS,  KING  OF  ELEUSIS. 
Primitive  Greek  architecture  and  decoration.  Fire 
is  burning  on  the  hearth.  At  one  side  is  a  rude 
altar.  Through  an  open  door  at  the  rear,  the  sea 
is  visible  in  moonlight.  A  door  on  the  left  leads 
to  the  inner  apartments.  CELEUS  and  METANEIRA, 
his  wife,  are  discovered  on  low  seats ;  he  with  a  table 
beside  him  bearing  a  bowl  and  pitcher  of  bronze  and 
a  golden  goblet,  and  she  carding  wool  by  the  light  of 
an  oil  lamp. 

METANEIRA 

When  Deo  came  as  nurse  to  Demophon 
The  moon  was  at  the  full,  and  now  once  more 
The  golden  pathway  points  across  the  sea. 

41 


CELEUS 

I  wonder  sometimes  if  a  man  should  sail 
Straight  on  into  the  moonlight,  on  and  on, 
Whereto  the  path  would  lead  him,  death  or  life; 
To  some  rich  coast  where  sorrow  has  not  come, 
With  olives  mellow  in  a  tempered  sun 
And  sound  of  waters  falling,  or  still  on 
Through  shoreless  wastes  that  roll  toward  alien 

stars, 
Forever  and  forever  on  and  on. 

METANEIRA 

A  little  way  we  see  through  night  and  mist, 
But  all  beyond  is  hidden  from  our  sight. 
If  coasts  there  be  unvisited  by  grief 
We  know  not,  yet  on  all  the  shores  I  know, 
The  white  and  barren  beaches  of  the  world, 
Has  sorrow  wandered,  and  the  washing  waves 
Wash  not  from  any  shore  her  steps  away. 


42 


CELEUS 

Not  hard  was  life  for  us  till  on  our  track 
We  heard  the  wolves  of  famine.     Now  I  rise 
From  haunted  sleep  wherein  a  storm  of  tears  — 
The  weeping  of  my  people  —  beats  on  me, 
To  watch  their  haggard  faces,  hear  their  griefs, 
While  day  by  day  the  coursing  terror  nears ; 
Nor  know  I  prayer  nor  charm  to  drive  it  back. 

METANEIRA 

Like  fishes  swimming  where  the  nets  are  spread, 
Are  men,  surrounded  by  the  toils  of  God    i 
Whose  meshes  close  about  us  ere  we  know. 

CELEUS 
And  yet  for  man  there  is  no  open  sea. 

(A  man  enters,  walking  feebly,  and  seats  him 
self  at  the  hearth  in  the  posture  of  a  suppliant.) 

THE  MAN 

A  little  food,  I  pray.     My  children  die. 
I  cannot  help  them.     By  thy  Father's  knees, 

43 


And  by  what  god  to  thee  is  most  endeared, 
And  by  thine  own  dear  children,  give  me  food ! 

CELEUS 
I  have  no  more  to  give. 

METANEIRA 

The  will  remains; 

But  sorrow's  tide  has  risen  day  by  day, 
And  as  it  rose  the  crowding  suppliants  came 
To  where,  above  the  breakers,  stood  the  King. 

CELEUS 

Cool  earthen  jars  of  wine  our  storerooms  held, 
Ranged  row  on  row,  and  many  jars  of  oil, 
With  barley  bins  and  raisins  hanging  dry : 
Who  wills  may  see  them ;   not  enough  remains 
To  keep  ourselves  unfamished  till  the  spring. 
I  cannot  help  you. 

(DEMETER  enters  from  within,  unobserved,  carry 
ing  the  child.  The  man  rises  from  the  hearth 
and  moves  toward  the  outer  entrance.) 

44 


THE  MAN 

Cruel  are  the  gods, 

Yet  will  they  miss  the  steam  of  sacrifice, 
Their  adoration  and  accustomed  prayer; 
For  now  will  no  man  praise  them,  nay,  nor  fear; 
But  raise  with  rituals  of  hate  his  pyres 
Wherein  the  quenchless  earth  shall  kindle  flame  — 
A  myriad  flares  beside  the  midnight  sea, 
And  up  the  mountain  sides  a  coil  of  fire. 

(He  goes  out.     CELEUS  follows  him  to  the  outer 
door  which  he  closes,  dropping  the  bar  into  its  place.) 

DEMETER    (aside) 

Aye :  There  alone  my  curse  can  climb  to  Zeus,   • 
Scaling  the  sheer  and  pathless  cliffs  of  heaven ; 
But  ah,  how  slow  to  end  it  all  is  death ! 

METANEIRA 
Here  Deo  brings  the  baby  fast  asleep. 

(The  four  girls  enter  from  within.) 
45 


CALLITHOE 

The  doors  are  shut ;   the  slaves  have  gone  to  rest. 
What  further  is  your  will  ? 

CELEUS 

Naught   else   remains. 

METANEIRA 
Except  performance  of  Demeter's  rite. 

(CALLITHOE  takes  burning  coals  from  the  hearth 
and  places  them  in  a  brazier  on  the  altar.  She  then 
passes  a  bowl  of  some  cereal  to  her  mother  and  sisters. 
Each  of  the  women  takes  a  few  grains  and  the  four 
maidens  sprinkle  theirs  over  the  coals.  DEMETER 
stands  with  averted  face  looking  into  the  fire.) 

THE  MAIDENS 
When  the  fledglings  crowd  the  nest, 

Fall  and  flutter  through  the  leaves ; 
Then,  beside  the  reapers,  rest 

We  who  bind  the  golden  sheaves. 

46 


Long  the  gleaming  sickles  hung 

Hid  in  corners  of  the  eaves ; 
Now  the  reaping  song  is  sung : 

Bind  Demeter's  golden  sheaves. 

Sent  by  her  the  rains  descend, 

Urged  by  her,  the  earth  conceives ; 

Springs  will  come  and  winters  end  : 
Maidens,  bind  the  golden  sheaves. 

(METANEIRA   goes   to   the   altar   and   casts    her 
offering  into  the  brazier.) 

METANEIRA 
Far  away  the  foaming  glen, 

Far  the  shadowed  forest  pool; 
Here  among  the  homes  of  men 

Comes  the  twilight,  kindly  cool ; 

Come  with  blessing  eve  and  morn, 
Rest  in  toiling  days  of  heat : 

Summer's  unexhausted  horn 
Pours  its  plenty  at  our  feet. 

47 


CELEUS 

How  hollow  rings  the  song !     Suspend  the  rite, 
For  silence  better  seems  than  mockery, 
The  empty  murmur  of  the  harvest  hymns 
Unkerneled  save  of  longing.     Nay,  no  more. 
Demeter  cares  not  though  her  suppliants  die, 
But  stands  with  face  averted,  deaf  to  prayer. 

(DEMETER  clutches  the  child  convulsively  so  that 
it  cries  in  its  sleep.     CELEUS  goes  out  hastily.) 

CLEISIDICE 

What  think  you,  Deo  ?     Must  a  deed  like  this 
Bring  down  an  after  sorrow  ?     You  are  wise 
And  tell  us  many  stories  of  the  gods ; 
Would  not  Demeter  —  she  of  old  was  kind  — 
Forgive  the  broken  rite,  the  word  of  bane  ? 

DEMETER 
My  heart  is  troubled  for  you. 

:DEMO 

Are  the   gods 
So  prone  to  anger,  spite,  and  pettiness  ? 


METANEIRA 

Our  hearts  are  schooled  by  sorrow  to  be  kind, 
But  they  whom  sorrow  has  not  taught  are  cold. 
Go  ye  to  rest ;   but  I  awhile  must  pray. 
Across  the  pathless  night  some  shaft  of  prayer 
May  wing  to  where  she  is  and  find  her  heart. 
Guard  well  the  baby,  Deo. 

(To  Callidice)  Rouse  him  not; 

He  soon  will  sleep  again  in  Deo's  arms. 

(They  go  out.  DEMETER  watches  them  and  then 
walks  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  hearth,  carrying 
the  child.) 

DEMETER 

Not  yet  the  sea  of  death  has  reached  the  full, 
For  though  I  foster  not  life's  pallid  flower, 
Still  clings  it  creviced  in  the  cold,  gray  cliff 
Whose  immemorial  bulkhead  fronts  the  deep; 
And  still  the  waves  defeated  fall  in  foam. 
O  little  heart  that  beats  against  my  own, 
E  49 


For  you  corruption  waits,  the  range  of  woe ; 

And  sorrows  implicate  within  lie  furled, 

Man's  passions,  hope  deferred  and  slow  regret; 

Yet  as  I  may,  I  do  requite  your  trust, 

Easing  your  burden  of  mortality 

With  lustral  fire  to  purge  its  taint  away; 

And  give  you  —  ah,  not  all  that  well  I  would  !  — 

Yet  something  of  my  own  divinity. 

(The  child  moves  again  in  its  sleep;    DEMETER 
sings.) 

O  clinging  hands,  and  eyes  where  sleep  has  set 

Her  seal  of  peace,  go  not  from  me  so  soon. 
O  little  feet,  take  not  the  pathway  yet, 
The  dust  of  other  feet  with  tears  is  wet, 
And  sorrow  wanders  there  with  slow  regret ; 
O  eager  feet,  take  not  the  path  so  soon. 

Take  it  not  yet,  for  death  is  at  the  end, 

And  kingly  death  will  wait  until  you  come. 
Full  soon  the  feet  of  youth  will  turn  the  bend, 

SO 


The  eyes  will  see  where  followed  footsteps  wend. 
Go  not  so  soon,  though  death  be  found  a  friend ; 
For  kingly  death  will  wait  until  you  come. 

( The  child  sleeps  and  she  lays  it  on  a  skin  by  the 
hearth.) 

They  learn  of  love  through  sorrow ;   is  it  so  ? 
And  I,  through  sorrow,  learn  to  know  myself, 
New  valuing  our  cold  divinity 
And  them  who  struggling  raise  with  fruitless  toil 
The  immaterial  fabric  of  their  lives, 
While  on  them  sweeps  the  night's  resistless  wind. 

(She  kneels  beside  DEMOPHON  and  after  bending 
over  him  for  a  moment  lifts  him.) 

Yet  you,  at  least,  I  save  as  best  I  may ; 

The  fire  will  make  you  pure  and  like  the  gods. 

(As  DEMETER  turns  with  outstretched  arms 
toward  the  hearth  METANEIRA  enters  and,  seeing 
what  is  about  to  happen,  rushes  forward  with  a 
scream.) 

51 


METANEIRA 

My  son  !     My  son  ! 

(DEMETER  casts  the  child  on  the  floor  and,  rising, 
stands  in  anger  above  METANEIRA  who,  kneeling  by 
the  baby,  does  not  fully  comprehend  her  words  nor 
see  that  as  she  speaks,  DEMETER' s  aspect  changes, 
until  she  becomes  once  more  the  radiant  goddess, 
majestic  and  beautiful,  with  yellow  hair,  and  the 
stature  of  the  Immortals.) 

DEMETER 

0  witless  workers  of  your  own  defeat ! 
Infatuate  race  that  knows  not  good  from  ill ! 

1  would  have  saved  the  child  from  painful  age, 
To  be  as  are  the  gods,  forever  young ; 

Yea,  saved  him  from  the  Fates  whose  gifts  are 

tears 

And  made  him  deathless;   on  the  lips  of  men 
A  sign  of  joy  and  splendor.     Lo  !     and  thou 
Hast  taken  from  him  this  that  might  have  been ; 

52 


Yet  all  thou  couldst  not  take,  for  still  shall  cling 

About  the  deathward  journey  of  the  child 

Some  strange  unnatural  glory,  and  his  eyes 

Shall  look  beyond  thee,  seeing  visions  dim 

Of  recollected  light  that  once  he  knew  — 

The  child  of  earth  Demeter  touched  with  heaven. 

METANEIRA 
Demeter !    Thou ! 

DEMETER 

Heed  well  my  words :   Let  all  the  people  build 
A  temple  fair  to  top  the  jutting  rock; 
For  I  will  be  among  you  till  the  end, 
And  there  would  hide  my  sorrow.     Now  I  go. 


S3 


ACT  IV 
PERSEPHONE  IN  HADES 


ACT  IV 

By  the  side  of  a  river  of  Hades.  The  river  is 
at  the  rear,  sluggish  and  dun-colored,  with  flat 
banks  bordered  by  leafless  willows.  In  front  is  a 
level  meadow  dotted  with  clumps  of  pale  white 
asphodels.  On  the  left  is  a  circular  open  pavilion 
containing  a  marble  couch  covered  by  fabrics 
heavy  with  gold,  and  a  stand  on  which  is  a  golden 
bowl  filled  with  the  scarlet  of  cloven  pomegranates. 
Far  up  the  river  on  the  right  are  the  gray-green 
walls  of  the  palace  of  Hades.  There  is  no  wind  and 
no  sound  of  the  river  or  of  birds.  The  sky  is  gray 
and  the  light  dim  as  at  the  end  of  twilight.  PER 
SEPHONE,  attended  by  CYANE,  is  walking  from  the 
palace  toward  the  pavilion. 
57 


PERSEPHONE 

Never,  never  comes  the  spring ; 
Leafless  still  the  willows  stand 
Looking  down  the  level  land 

Shadowless  and  slumbering. 

Here  the  happy  things  are  dreams : 
Only  in  a  dream  we  live; 
Glad  for  what  a  dream  may  give, 

Phantom  suns  in  phantom  streams. 

Glad  for  sights  and  sounds  of  home, 
Dream-remembered,  unforgot ; 
Idle  words  we  heeded  not, 

Flight  of  sea-gulls  through  the  foam. 

Happy  dreams  that  cannot  last ! 
Life  itself  must  come  and  go, 
As  the  summer  shadows  flow 

Down  the  valleys  of  the  past. 


CYANE 
You  who  have  not  wholly  died, 

You  whose  body  grows  not  cold, 
Queen  of  death  and  Hades'  Bride 

Can  you  clasp  me  as  of  old  ? 

Spread  your  arms,  I  am  not  there; 

Turn  to  mine  your  eager  lips, 
Reach  your  hand  to  touch  my  hair, 

From  your  hold  a  phantom  slips. 

PERSEPHONE 
Never  while  earth  in  her  gladness 

Drinks  of  the  sun  and  the  rain, 
Never  shall  spring  with  her  madness 

Lead  us  and  lure  us  again : 
Where  there  was  joy  there  is  sadness, 

Where  there  was  love  there  is  pain. 

Void  are  the  arms  of  the  Mother 
Cold  is  the  place  at  her  side; 

59 


Yea,  and  I  love  not  the  other  — 

Dark  is  the  lot  of  the  bride, 
Captive  of  Cronides'  brother 

Lord  of  the  folk  that  have  died. 

CYANE 
One  is  bereft  but  the  other 

Soon  shall  have  joy  of  his  bride. 

PERSEPHONE 
Nay,  not  of  me  nor  another; 

Cold  will  I  sit  by  his  side 
Yearning  for  her,  for  the  Mother, 

Soothing  the  folk  that  have  died. 

(She  reclines  on  the  couch,  CYANE  standing 
behind  her.  An  old  man  who,  coming  from  the 
opposite  direction,  has  overheard  the  last  lines, 
pauses  beside  the  pavilion  and  speaks.) 

THE  MAN 

Thou  who  art  here  among  the  hapless  dead, 
A  shaft  of  sunlight  in  a  darkened  house, 
60 


The  stir  of  spring  in  winter's  cold  domain, 
And  girlhood  once  eternized ;    child  of  earth, 
Come  drifting  downward  through  the  cloven  dark 
To  fan  the  flame  of  smoldered,  old  regret 
In  us,  whose  place  of  exile  turns  to  home 
Through  long  abiding,  know  thy  soothing  vain. 
At  first  the  exile  walks  the  gray,  bleak  shore 
And  strains  his  eyes  to  seaward  whence  he  came, 
Yearning,  and  all  his  thoughts  are  like  the  sea; 
But  soon  familiar  seems  the  strange  new  land, 
And  eyes  that  saw  the  sun,  accustomed  grow 
To  twilight ;   slowly  faint  and  far  away 
Seems  all  he  left,  and  faint  the  call  of  life ; 
He  looks  no  more  to  sea,  nor  from  the  shore 
Watches  the  freighted  driftwood  floating  in. 
At  first  no  comfort  aids  him  and  at  last 
The  oil  of  soothing  finds  a  closed  wound. 
But  thou  who  art  a  fragrance  known  in  youth, 
Recalling  moonlight  by  the  loved-one's  door 
Above  the  hidden  tumult  of  the  sea, 
6l 


For  all  the  bitter  guerdon  of  thy  gift  — 
The  ache  of  reawakened  memory  — 
Art  like  the  sight  of  unforgotten  stars 
To  one  long  blind  or  pent  in  caves  of  night. 

CYANE 
Earth's  million  flowers  have  faded  one  by  one, 

And  all  her  maidens  go  the  way  of  death 
To  see  no  more  the  sun ; 

Some  slow,  with  halting  feet  and  painful  breath, 
And  some  —  like  runners  ere  the  race  be  run, 

Eager,  with  parted  lips  and  eyes  that  flash, 

Poised  for  the  onward  dash  — 
Are  stricken  ere  the  course  is  yet  begun. 

Yea,  some  must  slowly  fail  and  fade  from  sight, 
And  some  in  bloom  of  beauty  come  to  die; 

But  like  the  swallow's  flight 

Is  youth  whose  winged  splendor  flashes  by 

Too  swift  for  measure  of  its  lost  delight, 
And  unrecorded,  save  in  after  grief 
62 


That  knows  how  youth  is  brief  — 
As  brief  as  summer  lightning,  and  as  bright. 

PERSEPHONE 

I  knew  not  that  the  world  was  very  old 
And  sad  beneath  the  burden  of  its  years, 
But  here  among  the  souls  of  men  outworn 
Are  folk  of  long  ago ;   forgotten  kings 
Of  cities  buried  by  the  sand  or  sea 
In  unremembered  ages ;   shepherd  boys 
Who  learned  their  piping  ere  the  birth  of  Pan ; 
Slim  maidens  sweet  to  love ;   and  children  lost  — 
White  petals  fallen  in  a  field  of  death 
Where  winter  turning  stood  against  the  spring. 
Yea,  few  there  are  who  walk  the  flowering  earth, 
But  here  among  its  fields  of  asphodel 
This  windless  underworld  of  dusk  and  dream 
Has    more    than    all    the    fields   of   earth    could 

hold, 
And  all  the  vastness  of  the  circling  sea. 


THE  MAN 

Look  up  where  one  but  newly  dead  has  come, 
And  round  him  gather  comrades  sick  for  home. 

PERSEPHONE 

Aye,  still  they  come,  and  each  for  all  he  lost, 
For  all  he  loved  and  left  is  comfortless. 

(The  throng  draws  nearer,  surrounding  the  new 
comer,  an  old  man  who  moves  forward  as  though 
dazed  and  does  not  answer  them.) 

VOICES  IN  THE  CROWD 

(The  change  of  speakers  is  indicated  by  spaces 
between  the  lines.) 
What  news  of  Argos  ? 

And  the  Lion  gate 
Where  elders  sat  of  old  ? 
What  younger  chieftains  keep  their  state  ? 
What  tales  of  war  are  told  ? 

What  of  the  olive  islands  ? 

64 


And  Knossos'  fair  demesne  ? 
When  the  beacons  blazed  on  the  highlands 

And  the  ships  of  war  were  seen, 
I  stayed  my  hand  from  the  reaping, 

I  took  my  shield  and  spear  — 

Dust  of  the  earth  is  heaping 

Where  we,  who  laughed  at  fear, 
Left  Crete  in  the  sea  wind's  keeping 

And  sailed  with  her  golden  gear 
To  the  sound  of  the  women's  weeping, 

Till  the  wind  began  to  veer 
And  the  roll  of  the  ocean  thunder 

Smote  on  the  seamen's  ear : 
And  we  lost  our  ships  and  our  plunder 

But  faced  our  captives  here. 

THE  NEWCOMER 

For  fifty  years  I  tilled  an  upland  farm, 
My  sons  had  left  me;   then  the  famine  came. 

6S 


(A   woman   presses   through   the   crowd   looking 
among  them  as  for  one  she  had  lost.) 

THE  WOMAN 

I  left  two  children  sleeping ;   but  with  me 
A  loving  husband  came  whom  now  I  seek, 
That  each  to  each  may  words  of  comfort  speak : 
But  when  my  children  wake  I  shall  not  hear. 

(She  sees  PERSEPHONE  and  going  to  the  step  of 
the  pavilion  speaks  to  her.) 

I  know  that  those  who  loved  on  earth  must  be 
In  some  way  reunited. 

PERSEPHONE 
Many  here 

Beside  the  river  wait  for  ones  they  loved, 
And  stretch  when  Charon  comes  their  strength- 
less  arms; 

And  many  search  among  the  multitude 
For  those  the  God  struck  down  before  themselves. 
66 


And  yet  perchance  with  these  who  gather  now 
Is  one  who  lacking  you  goes  desolate. 

(A  long  procession  of  the  dead  appears  coming 
from  the  direction  of  the  palace.  With  them  is 
Hades.) 

CHORUS 
We  who  were  lovers  of  life,  who  were  fond  of 

the  hearth  and  the  homeland, 
Gone  like  a  drowner's  cry  borne  on  the  perilous 

wind, 
Gone  from  the  glow  of  the  sunlight,  now  are  in 

exile  eternal ; 
Strangers  sit  in  the  place  dear  to  us  once  as  our 

own. 

Happy  are  they;    and  they  know  not  we  were 

as  strangers  before  them ; 
Nay,   nor  that   others   shall   come :    Knowledge 

belongs  to  the  dead. 

67 


Life  is  so  rich  that  the  living  look  not  away  from 

the  present; 
Eyes  that  the  sun  made  blind  learn  in  the  dusk 

to  see. 

Once  we  had  friends,  we  had  kindred ;    all  of  us 

now  are  forgotten, 

All  but  the  hero-kings,  lords  of  the  glory  of  war; 
These,  with  the  founders  of  cities,  live  for  a  little 

in  stones 
Told    of   the    deeds    they  did,  not  of  the  men 

that  they  were. 

Those   who   were   mighty   but   linger,    shadowy 

forms  in  a  legend  ; 
Never  the  minstrel's  tale  tells  what  they  were 

to  their  wives. 
None  on  the  lips  of  remembrance  live  as  their 

children  knew  them ; 
Merged    in    the    darkness,  kings   rank  with  the 

recordless  dead. 

68 


Whether  our  lifetime  brought  to  us  joy  or  the 

burden  of  sorrow, 
Whether    in    youth    or    age,  all  when  we    come 

from  the  earth 
Clinging  to  memories  wander  slow  through  the 

shadowless  meadows, 
Dash  from   the   proffered   cup   Lethe's   oblivious 

draught. 

Long   are  the   years    and   uncounted    passed   in 

the  seasonless  twilight 
Thinking  of  things  that  were,  feeling  the  ache  of 

regret ; 
Slowly  the  echoes  fade  and  the  homeland  hills 

are  forgotten : 
Over  the   flame-swept   waste  waters   of  healing 

are  poured. 

Lovers  of  action,  lovers  of  sunlight,  rovers  of  ocean, 
Shepherds,  tillers  of  earth,  yea,  at  the  last  we 
forget. 

69 


Longer    a  woman    remembers  words  that  were 

uttered  in  moonlight, 
Girlhood's  vision  and  dream,  pitiful  things  of  the 

home. 

Here  by  the  rivers  of  Hades ;  Phlegethon,  Acheron, 

Lethe, 
Wisdom   comes,  and  the  dead  judge  what  they 

did  with  their  lives  : 
Never  the  clustering  vineyard  yielded  to  any  its 

fulness  — 
Ah,  but  the  children  here  playing  their  desolate 

games ! 

PERSEPHONE 

The  saddest  of  all  sights  my  eyes  have  seen 
Are  grown-up  games  of  children  touched  by  death, 
Who  play  at  happy  things  they  shall  not  be. 

(HADES  enters  the  pavilion  and  takes  his  place 
beside  PERSEPHONE.  The  others  range  themselves 
in  a  semicircle  without.) 

70 


HADES 

We  come  to  grant  with  you  .an  audience 
To  Hermes,  son  of  Zeus. 

PERSEPHONE 

Is  Hermes  here  ? 

HADES 
He  comes. 

(The  crowd  opens  to  make  way  for  HERMES, 
the  messenger  of  ZEUS.) 

Be  welcome,  Hermes. 

PERSEPHONE 

Doubly  welcome  here ; 
For  last  I  saw  you  on  a  summer  eve, 
Above  the  field  of  Enna  like  a  star, 
Drop  golden  through  the  twilight.     All  the  land 
Lay  hushed,  and  slowly  over  ^Etna  rose 
The  harvest  moon.     Then  we,  on  either  side 
Demeter  walking,  shared  in  converse  sweet  — 

71 


And  all  around  us  were  the  nightingales. 
Speak  now  of  her,  and  tell,  if  once  again 
Your  winged  feet  have  borne  you  where  she  was, 
How  she  endures  her  sorrow.     Wide  is  grief 
And  spreads  from  Enna's  field  to  Hades'  throne. 

CYANE 

For  you  who  wander  where  you  will 
The  path  of  light  is  open  still ; 
Go  back  and  bring  from  Enna's  field 
The  poorest  blossom  earth  can  yield, 
For  by  its  sight  and  touch  and  scent 
Shall  gathered  sorrow  be  unpent, 
And  tearless  anguish  find  relief 
In  gentle  streams  that  lessen  grief. 

HERMES 

From  Zeus  who  rules  with  you  the  threefold  realm 
And  on  Olympus  keeps  his  sovereign  throne, 
I  come  in  solemn  embassage  to  save 
The  world  from  ruin.     Sweet  to  all  is  love, 
72 


And  hard  the  loss  of  beauty  once  possessed, 
But  round  the  dying  earth  Demeter's  curse 
Clings  like  a  serpent,  coiling  fold  on  fold, 
And  shall  not  loosen  till  Persephone  — 

PERSEPHONE 
Ah! 

HERMES 

Till  you  once  more  beside  her  draw  it  off. 
I  come  from  Zeus  to  bring  the  maiden  back. 

PERSEPHONE 
Out  of  the  night, 
Up  to  the  light, 
Mother,  I  come, 

I  come. 

HADES 
So  eager  are  you ! 

(To  HERMES)     When  I  took  for  mine 
The  land  of  many  guests,  I  envied  not 
Poseidon,  nay,  nor  Zeus,  and  ages  long 

73 


I  lived  contented  with  my  sovereignty ; 

And  then  —  Yea,  even  I  have  longed  for  love, 

But  find  it  not :   and  lo  !     I  yield  to  fate. 

(He  turns  to  PERSEPHONE.) 
Ever  I  stood  and  watched  you  where  you  sat 
Yearning  for  that  one  thing  I  could  not  give, 
And  as  I  watched  the  certain  knowledge  came 
That  you  must  walk  again  the  sunlit  earth 
And  I,  in  darkness,  live  with  grief  alone. 
Farewell,  I  set  you  free. 

CYANE 

Ah,  me !     Bereft ! 

PERSEPHONE 

Cyane,  you  remember  when  we  found 
A  sea-bird  tangled  in  the  cave-hung  nets ; 
That  bird  am  I,  and  there  the  wind  and  sun. 

CYANE 

Soon  are  the  dead  forgotten ; 
Slowly  the  dead  forget. 

74 


PERSEPHONE 

There  can  be  no  forgetting;   there  on  earth 
Will  all  we  shared  together  know  the  change. 
The  day  that  was  is  done  for  me  as  you, 
And  careless  girlhood  dies  to  live  no  more. 

CYANE 
Come  back  and  tell  me  of  the  things  of  earth. 

PERSEPHONE 

Ah  no,  Cyane !     You  have  loved  me  well, 
But  deeper  love  is  his  who  bids  me  go. 

(To  HADES.) 
I  will  be  mindful  of  your  gentleness. 

THE  MAN 

As  when  on  earth  beside  a  sick  man's  bed 
Comes  one  full-flushed  with  youth  and  eagerness, 
So  would  you  come  to  us,  and  so  would  we, 
Kindling,  forget  a  moment  what  we  are. 

75 


HADES 

No  gift  have  I  of  sweet,  persuasive  speech, 
But  this  I  know,  that  all  things  ruled  by  Fate 
Wheel  through  recurrent  changes,  sun  and  moon, 
The  stars  that  lead  the  seasons,  and  the  tides. 
One  thing  alone  is  fixed  and  alters  not, 
Breaking  the  else  unbroken  cosmic  round, 
Death  is  eternal  and  immutable  — 
A  timeless  winter  in  whose  frozen  heart 
No  life  can  stir  nor  any  seed  awake ; 
And  you  would  come  to  us  as  sunlight  comes 
To  happier  folk,  as  come  the  tides  of  spring  — 

PERSEPHONE 
I  could  not,  could  not. 

THE  MAN 
To  you  the  helpless  lift  imploring  hands. 

CYANE 
Come  back.     Come  back.     I  cannot  go  to  you. 


PERSEPHONE 
Not  that !     I  could  not. 

(To  HERMES.) 

Quickly,  lead  me  on ; 

For  higher  round  me  rolls  the  mounting  wave 
Whose   clutch  would   draw  me   darkly   back   to 
death. 

(As  she  turns  to  go,  the  throng  without  hastily 
close  up  the  lane  through  which  HERMES  had  come 
and  surge  nearer  to  the  pavilion,  blocking  the  exit.) 

CHORUS 
Ever  though  bitter  the  portion  given  by  Fate 

to  the  living, 
Yea,  though  a  doom    severe   follow   a   man   till 

he  die, 
Not  till  the  last  slow  breath  when  the  spirit  is 

wafted  to  Hades, 
Not  till  the  limbs  grow  cold  faileth  the  future  of 

hope. 

77 


Dreadful    is   death   to   the   living,    dreadful   the 

grave  and  its  darkness, 
Ah,  but  the  poisoned  dart  turned  in  the  wound  is 

this : 
Man,  when  the  tomb  has  enclosed  him,  finds  in 

the  stretch  of  the  future 
Nothing   to    hope   or   plan  —  only  the   limitless 

years. 

Could  there  but  be  for  the  dying  somewhere  a 

rift  in  the  darkness, 
Could    but    the    dead    men    know  light   would 

return  at  the  last, 
Were   there   a    change   in   the   distance   nearing 

through  infinite  ages, 
Then  would    the    slow   years    pass,  waiting   the 

thing  that  would  be. 

PERSEPHONE 
I  will  come  back. 

(In  sight  of  al^  she  tastes  of  the  pomegranate, 

78 


then  goes  slowly  back  toward  HERMES,  pausing  beside 

him  on  the  step.) 

I  will  come  back ; 

Full-armed  with  garnered  sweetness  of  the  earth, 
To  be  for  wintry  death  like  spring's  return, 
The  hope  and  promise  of  the  waiting  year. 

(As  they  pass  in  silence  through  the  crowd,  the 
voice  of  a  young  man  alone  by  the  river  is  heard.) 

THE  YOUNG  MAN 
Surely  when  the  storm  came,  white  against  the 

doorway 

Stood  a  maiden  watching,  looking  out  to  sea. 
Vows  she  made  Poseidon,  fearful  for  her  lover; 

Vows  are  quickly  broken,  tears  are  quick  to  dry. 
Will  she  stand  there  lonely  when  another  spring"- 

time 

Sees  the  fleet  of  fishers  lessen  from  the  shore  ? 
Yesterday  she  loved  me ;  now  the  wheeling  seagulls 
Gather,  whence  we  know  not,  where  the  ship 
went  down. 

79 


ACT  V 

THE  TEMPLE 


ACT  V 

The  portico  of  a  temple  on  the  cliff  at  Eleusis. 
In  the  center  an  altar.  It  is  the  close  of  night,  and 
far  below,  between  the  columns,  is  the  sea,  gray, 
with  one  paling  planet  over  Salamis.  PERSEPHONE, 
followed  by  DEMETER,  enters  from  the  side. 

PERSEPHONE 

I  cannot  cease  to  look  upon  the  stars, 
And  lo !  the  waiting  earth  expects  the  sun. 

DEMETER 
Still  keep  the  sun  and  stars  their  ancient  round. 

PERSEPHONE 

But  I  upon  them  look  with  other  eyes. 
No  more  for  me  shall  dawn  unclouded  come, 
Or  any  sinking  planet  touch  the  sea 

83 


Inviolate  in  beauty ;   sun  and  star, 

The  breathing  glow  and  loveliness  of  earth, 

Have  suffered  such  a  change  as  children's  eyes 

When  first  we  see  corruption  peering  forth. 

I  cannot  vision  beauty  as  of  old, 

Or  look  unmoved  upon  mortality ; 

For  life  I  know  to  be  a  space  of  light 

Between  two  fixed  eternities  of  gloom 

Whose  double  shadows  reach  from  birth  to  death, 

And  wrap  in  folding  darkness  flower  and  God. 

DEMETER 

Who  tastes  of  knowledge  sees  in  loveliness 
The  shining  veil  wherein  corruption  hides. 
Not  idly  thou  and  I  at  Sorrow's  knees 
Have  stood. 

PERSEPHONE 

The  heart  of  youth  is  filled  with  song 
That  flows' unceasing  on  till  stopped  by  tears; 
And  in  the  after  silence  thought  begins. 


DEMETER 

Such  silence  filled  the  earth  when  you  were  gone, 
And  in  the  brooding  hush  came  wisdom  forth : 
Wave  after  wave  of  life  will  strike  the  shore 
And  never  one  unbroken  pass  beyond. 
Better  it  seemed  that  death  should  end  it  all, 
And  waveless  lie  at  last  the  bounded  sea. 

PERSEPHONE 

Ah,  Mother,  deem  not  death  the  greatest  boon, 
Nor  be  thy  gift  to  men  the  gift  of  sleep. 
So  long  as  each  may  see  the  springtime  come 
As  though  no  other  spring  had  bloomed  before, 
Or  any  withered  autumn  browned  the  leaf, 
For  him  illusion  is  reality; 
And  in  the  scales  where  joy  and  grief  are  laid 
A  little  love  will  balance  many  tears, 
An  hour  of  light  the  stretch  of  winter's  gloom. 

DEMETER 

Such  thoughts  were  mine  in  Celeus*  stricken  home, 
When  first  the  nobleness  of  them  that  strive 

85 


Against  the  seeming  malice  of  the  sky, 
Rose  like  a  refutation  of  my  will 
To  plead  against  me. 

PERSEPHONE 

Understanding    comes 
Through  equal  sorrow;    this  the  only  way. 

DEMETER 

Had  man  been  made  less  noble  than  he  is 
Or  something  nobler,  then  the  choice  were  clear. 
This  compound  of  aspiring  impotence, 
This  blend  of  power  with  futility ; 
The  infinite  capacity  for  good 
In  hearts  that  harbor  equal  infamy; 
The  fruitage  blasted  in  the  growing  seed ; 
The  strife  renewed  from  age  to  after  age 
Whose  issue  is  the  selfsame  nothingness, 
Have  made  me  look  on  life  with  double  view ; 
And  will  that  fights  itself,  divided,  fails 
Of  all  fruition. 

86 


PERSEPHONE 
Ah !  be  ruled  by  me. 

Since  men  there  are,  give  aid  to  make  them  blest ; 
Nor  deem  what  greater  good  there  might  have 

been 
If  that  strange  thing  which  makes  them  what 

they  are 
Had  never  marked  them  from  the  soulless  beasts. 

DEMETER 

Two  paths  there  are,  and  you  have  chosen  one. 
My  reason  bade  me  go  the  darker  way, 
But  all  that  reasons  not  would  follow  you, 
Turning,  instinctive,  toward  the  lure  of  light. 

PERSEPHONE 

Let  instinct  rule,  for  reason's  heart  is  cold, 
And  one  who  acts  by  reason  acts  for  self; 
With  folded  arms  he  sits,  and  to  his  knees 
No  hapless  children  climb  for  comforting. 

87 


DEMETER 

Ah !  Thou  hast  come  upon  me  like  the  spring, 
And  all  the  frozen  winter  of  my  heart 
That  longed  to  break  its  ice-bound  bitterness, 
But  could  not,  now  is  melted  at  thy  word. 
Yea,  I  will  blind  myself  to  what  must  be  — 
Spring's    broken    promise    and    the    grave    that 

waits  — 

And  give  again  as  once  I  gave,  not  death 
But  resurrection ;   foster  flower  and  fruit, 
And  in  the  heart  the  gentle  lure  of  hope. 
And  us  forevermore  shall  dying  man 
Hold  dear  as  symbols  of  triumphant  life, 
That  in  the  ways  of  children  blooms  afresh, 
As  from  the  withered  fall  of  Earth's  decay 
Eternal  and  recurrent  springs  the  seed. 

(The  VOICES  OF  MEN  are  heard  approaching  the 
temple  from  below.  Only  the  rhythm  of  the  words 
is  distinguishable.) 

88 


With  morning  come  again  my  worshippers; 
But  I  will  give  them  now  a  word  of  joy. 

THE  VOICES  OF  WOMEN  (Below) 
Yea,  and  Woman,  she  is  burdened  with  child- 
bearing, 
And  the  child  for  whom  she  made  herself  a 

drudge, 

Lured  by  younger  laughter  goes  away  uncaring  — 
At  the  first  they  love  us,   at  the  last,  they 
judge. 

Then  in  dream  she  sees  him  face  imagined  danger, 

Prays  the  God  to  guide  his  rose-snared  feet : 
If  he  come  again,  behold  !  he  is  a  stranger ; 

His  are  ways  she  knows  not,  eyes  she  cannot 
meet. 

PERSEPHONE 
As  long  as  youth,  when  moonlight  floods  the 

grove, 
May  walk  unconscious  of  the  sunken  graves, 


Rewaking  echoes  of  low  words  of  love  — 
Immortal  echoes  roused  from  age-old  tombs  - 
No  after  bulk  of  care  can  turn  the  scale 
Or  blur  the  brightness  of  that  memory; 
For  man  has  moments  when  he  seems  a  God. 

VOICES  OF  MEN  AND  WOMEN 
(Still  below  but  nearer.) 

Who  from  the  outer  ocean, 
Who  from  the  inland  sea, 
Has  the  skill  to  tell, 
Though  he  reason  well, 
What  the  soul  of  man  may  be  ? 

Not  from  the  wheeling  planets, 
Not  in  the  scroll  of  earth, 

Has  the  wisest  read 

How  the  tides  are  led 
Or  the  stars  were  brought  to  birth. 

Dark  is  the  end  of  being, 
Veiled  is  the  primal  cause; 
90 


And  of  life  we  know 
But  that  ebb  and  flow 
Are  ruled  by  changeless  laws. 

Glimpses  are  all  our  vision, 
Mystery  folds  us  round ; 

But  the  shafted  might 

Of  the  spirit's  light 
Flames  on  the  dark  profound, 

Searches  the  depth,  and  brightens, 
Soaring  from  Fate's  control ; 

Nor  shall  ills  that  reach 

To  the  life  of  each 
Avail  to  touch  the  soul. 

We  whom  a  famine  conquers, 
We  whom  a  drought  can  kill, 

Though  we  mark  our  years 

With  a  trail  of  tears, 
Are  victors,  victors  still. 

91 


(DEMETER  and  PERSEPHONE  have  withdrawn 
into  the  temple  where  they  remain,  invisible.  TRIP- 
TOLEMUS  and  the  other  PRINCES  of  Eleusis,  fol 
lowed  by  men  and  women,  range  themselves  about 
the  altar.) 

CHORUS 
Through  the  bitter  months  of  famine  we  have 

brought  thee 
Corn   and   honey  f  and  with  parched  lips  of 

drought 

We  have  told  the  tale  of  sorrow,  and  besought  thee 
Lest  the  flame  of  life  that  lingered  flicker  out. 

Silence  answered ;   nor  has  any  gift  we  bore  thee 
Won  requital  in  the  ending  of  our  need. 

Swaying  round  thine  altar  now  we  weave  before 

thee 
Magic  measures  bringing  fruitage  of  the  seed. 

VOICE  OF  DEMETER 
Attend  the  words  of  God. 
92 


TRIPTOLEMUS 

Demeter  speaks ! 

DEMETER 

Behold  I  have  relented,  and  again 
Will  give  the  seed  and  bring  the  harvest  forth. 
Once  more  shall  earth  be  fruitful,  feel  the  rain ; 
And  on  the  barren  valleys  spring  shall  come, 
Like  sight  returning  slowly  to  the  blind. 

CHORUS 

Now  that  leafless  tree-tops  offer  no  concealing, 
Black  among  the   branches  shines  the  watchful 

crow; 
Volleyed  with  the  rain-drops   come  the  swallows 

wheeling, 
Then  through  silver  olives  winds  of  summer  blow. 

Soon  shall  need  of  reapers  turn  the  fisher  shoreward, 
Northing    now    from    Nilus    flocks    of   cranes 
will  fly : 

93 


Life  triumphant  rising  moves,  resistless,  forward ; 
Children  fill  the  places  left  by  us  who  die. 

Lady   of  the  Wild  Things,  when  the  buds   are 

showing, 

When  the  ripened  olive  brings  the  end  of  dearth, 
When    across    the     harvest    fragrant  winds    are 

blowing, 
Thine  will  be  the  rapture  of  awakened  earth. 

DEMETER 

,Once  more  the  fields,  responsive,  wait  your  work. 
Go  forth  and  labor;   and  when  Hesper's  lamp 
Among  my  darkened  columns  leads  the  night, 
Will  I  from  ancient  urns  of  wisdom  pour 
The  golden  flood  of  knowledge,  that  ye  learn, 
And  in  the  after  twilights  teach  your  sons 
How  best  to  till  the  earth  and  serve  the  gods. 

TRIPTOLEMUS 

Like  dogs  that  look  into  their  masters'  eyes 
And  strive  there  to  divine  the  secret  thing 

94 


They  cannot  understand,  which  men  call  speech, 
Are  we  who  look  upon  the  infinite ; 
We  hear  the  voice  of  Nature,  but  the  sense 
Is  lost. 

DEMETER 

Who  comes  to  me  shall  learn  of  life 
Rising  reverdured  from  the  clasp  of  death, 
And  one,  whom  Zeus  reluctant  summoned  back, 
In  maiden  freshness  come  from  Hades'  hall, 
By  sorrow's  touch  ennobled.     Fair  is  she, 
With  autumn's  tempered  beauty  joined  to  spring, 
And  dwells  beside  me  till  again  she  go 
To  bear  the  summer  downward  to  the  dead. 
I  give  into  your  hands  a  lighted  lamp 
Whose  glow  shall  lead  you  in  the  years  to  come, 
To  see  in  darkness  beauty.     Now  go  forth. 

CHORUS 

Crouched  beside  the  elders  oft  we  heard  in  childhood 
All  the  garnered  wisdom  gathered  from  the  earth ; 

95 


Some  had   sailed  the  ocean;    some  had  crossed 

the  wildwood : 
None  had  tracked  the  darkness  bounding  death 

and  birth. 
Whence  we  come  we  know  not,  nor  the  end  of 

being ; 

Ask  we  of  our  Fathers  there  is  none  that  knows. 

Never  wreathed  prophet,  past  and  future  seeing, 

Read  the  crimson  riddle  blushing  in  the  rose. 

Of  the  dusk  we  know  not,  nor  have  need  of  know 
ing; 

Heavy  with  the  harvest  lies  the  waiting  field, 
Children  rise  about  us  gifts  of  light  bestowing, 

Unto  us,  the  living,  life  is  now  revealed, 
Nobler  made  by  sorrow,  fairer  for  decaying; 

Out  of  dying  winter  vivid  spring  is  born. 
Unto  thee,  Demeter,  turn  thy  people,  praying : 

Death  the  Maiden  yieldeth,  earth  shall  yield 
the  corn. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America. 

96 


*HE  following  pages  contain  advertisements  of  a 
few  of  the  Macmillan  books  on  kindred  subjects. 


IMPORTANT  NEW  POETRY 

Spoon  River  Anthology 

BY  EDGAR  LEE  MASTERS 

New  edition  with  new  poems 

With  illustrations  and  decorations  by  OLIVER  HERFORD 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  books  of  many  a  year  —  this  is  the  con 
sensus  of  opinion  of  Mr.  Masters's  Anthology.  Originality  of  idea  dis 
tinguished  its  physical  construction;  skill  in  the  handling  of  words  and 
lines  marked  the  working  out  of  this  idea,  while  every  individual  poem 
was  notable  for  the  embodiment  in  it  of  great  human  understanding  and 
sympathy.  Mr.  Masters's  text  is  now  to  appear  in  a  more  elaborate 
dress  with  illustrations  by  Oliver  Hereford.  The  artist  has  not  only 
made  a  beautiful  book  —  he  has  given  a  new  significance  to  many  of  the 
poems.  He  has  succeeded  in  really  interpreting  Masters's  work. 


The  Great  Valley 

BY  EDGAR   LEE   MASTERS 


This  book  is  written  much  in  the  manner  of  Mr.  Masters's  very  suc 
cessful  "Spoon  River  Anthology."  It  represents  his  very  latest  work, 
and  while  it  employs  the  style  and  method  of  its  now  famous  predecessor, 
it  marks  an  advance  over  that  both  in  treatment  and  thought.  Here 
Mr.  Masters  is  interpreting  the  country  and  the  age.  Many  problems 
are  touched  upon  with  typical  Masters  incisiveness.  Many  characters 
are  introduced,  each  set  off  with  that  penetrative  insight  into  human 
nature  that  so  distinguished  the  Anthology.  The  result  is  an  epic  of 
American  life,  a  worthy  successor  to  the  book  which  is  responsible  for 
Mr.  Masters's  pre-eminence  in  modern  letters. 


THE    MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


IMPORTANT  NEW  POETRY 
TWO  NEW  BOOKS  BY  JOHN  MASEFIELD 

Salt  Water  Poems  and  Ballads 

With  twelve  plates  in  color  and  black  and  white  illustrations 

By  CHARLES  PEARS 

$2.00 

It  is  first  of  all  as  a  poet  of  the  sea  that  most  people  think  of  John 
Masefield.  Consequently  the  publication  of  what  may  be  called  a  de 
luxe  edition  of  his  best  salt  water  ballads  and  sea  poems  is  particu 
larly  gratifying.  Here  will  be  found  one  or  two  absolutely  new 
pieces,  new,  that  is,  so  far  as  their  inclusion  in  a  book  is  concerned. 
Among  these  are  "  The  Ship  and  Her  Makers,"  and  "  The  New 
Bedford  Whaler."  Here  also  well-chosen  selections  from  "  Salt 
Water  Ballads,"  from  "  Philip  the  King,"  and  "  The  Story  of  a 
Round  House."  Mr.  Masefield  has  been  extremely  fortunate  in  his 
illustrator.  The  twelve  full-page  illustrations  in  color  and  the 
twenty  in  black  and  white  by  Mr.  Pears  admirably  reflect  the  spirit 
of  the  poet's  lines. 

The  Locked  Chest  and  The   Sweeps 
of  Ninety-Eight 

That  Mr.  Masefield  is  well  grounded  in  the  principles  of  dramatic 
art  has  been  amply  proved  by  the  plays  which  he  has  published 
hitherto  —  "  The  Faithful,"  "Philip  the  King,"  "The  Tragedy  of 
Pompey  "  among  others.  In  this  book  two  further  additions  are 
made  to  a  literature  which  he  has  already  so  greatly  enriched.  In 
the  realm  of  the  one-act  play,  which  it  has  been  maintained  is  a  type 
all  unto  itself,  he  is  seen  to  quite  as  good  effect  as  in  the  longer 
work ;  in  fact  this  volume,  this  first  new  book  from  Masefield  since 
his  American  tour,  may  well  rank  with  his  best. 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


NEW  MACMILLAN  POETRY 


Fruit  Gathering 


BY  RABINDRANATH  TAGORE 

Author  of  "  Sadhana,"  "  The  King  of  the  Dark  Chamber,"  etc. 

Perhaps  of  all  of  Tagore's  poetry  the  most  popular  volume  is 
"  Gitanjali."  It  was  on  this  work  that  he  was  awarded  the  Nobel 
Prize  in  Literature.  These  facts  lend  special  interest  to  the  an 
nouncement  of  this  book,  which  is  a  sequel  to  that  collection  of 
religious  "  Song  Offerings."  Since  the  issue  of  his  first  book,  some 
four  years  ago,  Tagore  has  rapidly  grown  in  popularity  in  this  coun 
try,  until  now  he  must  be  counted  among  the  most  widely  read  of 
modern  poets.  Another  volume  of  the  merit,  the  originality,  the 
fine  spiritual  feeling  of  "  Gitanjali "  would  even  further  endear  him 
to  his  thousands  of  American  admirers. 


Californians 

BY   ROBINSON  JEFFERS 

California  is  now  to  have  its  part  in  the  poetry  revival.  Robinson 
Jeffers  is  a  new  poet,  a  man  whose  name  is  as  yet  unknown  but 
whose  work  is  of  such  outstanding  character  that  once  it  is  read  he 
is  sure  of  acceptance  by  those  who  hr.ve  admired  the  writings  of 
such  men  as  John  G.  Neihardt,  Edgar  Lee  Masters,  Edwin  Arling 
ton  Robinson,  and  Thomas  Walsh.  Virtually  all  of  the  poems  in 
this  first  collection  have  their  setting  in  California,  most  of  them  in 
the  Monterey  peninsula,  and  they  realize  the  scenery  of  the  great 
State  with  vividness  and  richness  of  detail.  The  author's  main 
source  of  inspiration  has  been  the  varying  aspects  of  nature. 


THE   MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


AMY  LOWELL'S  NEW  BOOK 


Men,  Women  and  Ghosts 


BY  AMY    LOWELL 


This  collection  of  stories  in  verse  is  divided  into  five  sections  — 
Figurines  in  Old  Saxe,  stories  with  Eighteenth  Century  backgrounds; 
Bronze  Tablets,  dealing  with  the  Napoleonic  era  ;  The  Overgrown 
Pasture,  studies  of  modern  life  in  a  New  England  hill  town  ;  War 
Pictures,  a  series  of  sketches  which  brings  the  war  close  to  the  reader, 
and  Clocks  Tick  a  Century,  tales  of  modern  life.  The  book  opens 
with  "  Patterns,"  the  poem  to  which  Mr.  William  Stanley  Braithwaite 
awarded  first  place  in  his  list  of  distinctive  poems  for  1915.  In  "  Sword 
Blades  and  Poppy  Seed  "  Miss  Lowell  has  shown  her  mastery  of  the 
story  told  in  verse.  In  this  volume  free  rein  is  given  to  her  versatile 
imagination  and  the  result  is  a  new  demonstration  of  Miss  Lowell's 
genius,  a  book  the  individual  pieces  of  which,  whether  written  in  old 
form  or  in  new,  are  all  instinct  with  force  and  fire. 


THE    MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

Publishers  64-66  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


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